


Siren

by PoeticEmptiness



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Canon Rewrite, F/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:35:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29636121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoeticEmptiness/pseuds/PoeticEmptiness
Summary: Julian Devorak's life turns upside down, when he encounters a mysterious magician during his mission to shed some light for events three years ago.This is a rewrite for part of Julian's route, in his own point of view. I will include content warnings at the beginning of chapters where they are needed.
Relationships: Apprentice/Julian Devorak, Hande Kuura & Julian Devorak
Kudos: 7





	1. Lost

There's red everywhere. Deep shadows. _Where am I?_ I get on my knees and my right hand moves towards my neck instinctively. _Oh right... I was hanged._ So this is supposed to be... Did my plan work? Am I in the Hanged Man's realm? I look around and I notice a lantern next to me. I don't even bother to wonder about, what does that doodad do in a forest – I've seen much stranger things so far. I get up, surprisingly my feet carry me. I turn around and in front of me stands the Hanged Man himself, his arms crossed. 

”I can see you're here at last,” an Arcana says with a croaking voice. He looks me in the eye, a serious expression on his face. My head begins to ache and my thoughts mix into a chaotic mishmash. My legs give out and I fall on all fours. I hear the Hanged Man stating, ”Your memories should be returning now.” 

Sure enough, events are flooding into my mind, events I didn't remember experiencing before. I stand up, although my legs are swaying ominously. ”What... the _hell_? I... this is... It can't be. It's impossible,” I mutter as I try to get a grip on my new memories. The Hanged Man looks at me motionless, ”Not only is it possible, it's the truth.”

The truth... Yes, after three years of uncertainty, I finally know what actually happened. All that guilt and fear... And I didn't even have any reason to feel them to begin with! Once more I've been a fool... Wait a minute, what are _these_ memories? It can't be...

It's _her_.

**_10 days earlier..._ **

I'm striding with determined steps through the streets of the center of Vesuvia. It's quiet everywhere, but I stay in the shadows just in case – I don't want anyone to see me. Eventually I arrive at my destination, to _his_ shop. My instinct tells me to use a back door near me. I see a light reflecting from a small window. Good, that means _he_ is home. I dig a brass key from my pocket. If _he_ hasn't changed the locks, I shouldn't have any trouble getting in. I carefully push the key into a lock, avoiding making a loud noise. I turn the key and it moves effortlessly. A puff escapes from my mouth – I didn't realise I was holding my breath. The lock clicks and I open the door slowly.

After stepping into the shop and closing the door behind me, I'm suddenly startled. I can hear voices of two people from a room nearby – the other one's voice is deep, calm and commanding, while the other one has bright, polite and a little nervous-sounding voice. I can't make out much of their conversation, only something about a plan and putting it into motion. Without thinking, I sneak behind curtains leading to a back room, as I don't want outsiders to see me. After a while, I hear footsteps, the front door opening and the person with deep voice speaking. Finally the door closes: my time has come. I sneak in front of the back door, but the person who stayed in the shop hasn't noticed me yet. Judging by everything they work here. I haven't yet seen _him_ , the witch – he'd better show up, I won't leave without answers.

The shopkeep still hasn't noticed me. _Very well, time to make my presence known._ I take one step towards them and blurt, ”Strange hours for a shop to keep.” I manage to sound harsh, which makes the shopkeep to startle and glance around. They still don't notice me. _Does my mask distort my voice that much?_ I roll my eyes and state, ”...Behind you,” which causes the shopkeep to finally turn around. She looks at me with a fearful expression on her face. 

I stare at the young woman standing in front of me through red lenses of my mask. _So typical... I try to find the witch, but instead I must rub elbows with an unknown shopkeep._ I demand whereabouts of the witch from her. However, the woman doesn't respond, so I approach her – hopefully my threatening appearance will loosen her tongue. Her eyes look scared, but the woman doesn't budge out of my way. Hmmm... Surprising courage, considering I just broke into her shop, I'm notably taller than her and I'm wearing my old plague mask.

”Stop! Don't come any closer!” the woman exclaims in a little hoarse, but determined voice. I notice that her hands are starting to glow – _a witch_! However, she doesn't attack me right away, so this is a warning. I stop, raise my hands to a yielding gesture and repeat my question. The glow disappears from the woman's hands and she relaxes a little. I can still sense reservedness from the woman: her eyes are following my every movement.

”Who's asking?” the young woman inquires. Her voice is booming, but I can hear shyness in it. 

”I'm asking. I'd rather not do it again”, I answer coldly. 

In spite of my tone, I decide to indulge the woman a little, and take off my mask. I toss it at my feet and inspect a reaction of the woman: she seems to recognize me as she starts a little. However, a slightly shocked look turns into an exploratory one after a while, which makes me confused. I indulge in observing her myself, now that the red lenses of my mask aren't distorting features of the woman: she has golden wheat hair that reaches over he shoulders and cerulean blue eyes. Her skin is fair, but not as pale as mine, and she's about a head shorter than me. She's wearing a loose, violet tunic with sleeves wrapped up to the elbow, as well as mint green harem trousers. She may be Pasha's age, perhaps even a little younger. Now that I'm looking at her properly, she seems familiar to me. _Where have I seen her before?_

 _Concentrate! You don't have time to wonder whether you may have seen this shopkeep some day or not. Remember what you have come for._ I return my thoughts on mission and open my mouth once more, ”Quickly now. _Where is the witch?_ ”

The woman hesitates for a moment before she answers, ”Master Asra is gone. I don't know where. He never tells me.” Her voice fades slightly at the last remark. My instinct tells me that the shopkeep is telling the truth, although I was surprised by her words. 

”'Master', is it...” slips from my mouth. I feel a blush spreading over my cheeks and I lower my gaze to the ground. _You idiot, why do you speak before you think? And why are you interested in what Asra means to her anyway?_

”Ahem, I won't pry into your personal affairs. But if you don't know, and I don't know... Why don't we ask your magic cards?”

The woman looks dumbfounded. She didn't quite seem to expect me to have such a friendly chat after my demanding. I smile at her reassuringly before I continue, ”That _is_ what the room in the back is for, isn't it?” 

The shopkeep nods me in the affirmative. She still seems a little reserved, but her shoulders relax a bit. I encourage her to go ahead and I follow her – I have to bend down to fit in the doorway. In the middle of the room is a small, round table covered with colourful cloths. A teal light coming from a lantern hanging from the ceiling creates a mystical atmosphere in the room with only one stained glass window. I sit down on one of the chairs: I place my legs under it, because they don't fit under the table without having to straighten them.

The woman stands next to the table. I smile at her again, ”Go on. No need to be shy.”

The woman still scrutinises me. She digs up her deck of cards, but then looks at me hesitantly, ”I... I don't know your name.”

”My name?” I can't hide my surprised tone. Didn't she recognize me, after all, even though they have posters of me around the town?

”For your reading. I need to know your name.”

”Oh. Ahem. Right. Yes, of course... You can call me Julian.”

After I've given my answer the shopkeep slowly sits down on a chair opposite me. I watch as she shuffles the cards and finally draws one of them. Once she has placed it on the table, I stare at it in confusion: on the card there is a horse who has a skull instead of a face. The figure holds a scythe in its hand. The woman begins to speak quietly, ”...Death.”

Death, eh? This is brilliant, absolutely great. I can't help but burst into laughter, ”Death? _Death?_ Death cast her gaze on this wretch and turned away. She has no interest in an abomination like me.” 

I get up from the chair and stride towards the front door without a backward glance. I can hear the woman's footsteps behind me, until she exclaims, ”Wait! That's not what Death means. It's–”

However, I don't let her finish. I know what's in store – it's inevitable, and no explanation from the witch's helper can change that. I turn to the woman and take a deep breath:

”No, no. My fate is sealed. But you've been hospitable, so I'll let you in on a secret. Your witch friend will be back for you. He's taught you his tricks. You may even say that he cares for you. But when he returns... Seek me out, for your own sake. Don't let him fool you, shopkeep.” 

I give the woman a hard look and she meets my gaze. I can't read her expression. I lift my mask off the floor and put it back on my face. ”Well then. The hour is late, and I'm out of time.” I turn around, open the door of the shop and dive into the misty open-air. The night has been interesting, not least because of this shopkeep. How dared she face me so calmly, even though I practically broke into her shop? She must have seen the wanted posters – you can't walk around the city without noticing them. Well, doesn't matter... Hopefully Asra will be back soon – it's time for him to tell the truth.


	2. Unfortunate Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A surprising encounter with the shopkeep gives Julian something new to think about...

I open a back door of the Rowdy Raven and at the same time I call out behind me, ”Oh, I'll be back. Just stepping out for some air.”

I'm not left alone for long, as I hear noise from nearby. I look around and notice that someone unlucky falls into an empty barrel, and can't get out on their own. I hurry to the scene and approach the stranger, ”Hello, that was quite a tumble, are you all right?”

I lean over the barrel and extend my hand in order to help the stranger to get up. Wait a minute... They aren't a stranger, after all! I recognise her face!

”The... the shopkeep! What are you doing here? Come on, upsy-daisy.”

The woman looks pretty dumbfounded – looks like she didn't expect encountering me. I grip both of her wrists and manage to haul her out of the barrel. The shopkeep staggers against me and our eyes meet for a moment: we both are surprised at how close we are to each other. _Oh, she has such beautiful eyes... Now, now, let's not make our thoughts wander..._ I give her arms a friendly pat and let her out of my grip.

She has different clothes than the last time we met. Actually, in here she stands out like a sore thumb: she's wearing a teal dress with floral embroidery on the top and cuffs. It's clearly made from expensive fabrics – something you can't afford with a shopkeep's salary. Although the dress fits her perfectly, she looks like she hasn't got accustomed to it, which proves she hasn't owned this outfit for long. 

”Dare I ask what brings you to this neck of the woods?” I inquire in order to preoccupy myself from her dress to the woman herself.

The shopkeep opens her mouth to answer, but isn't able to say anything. I can sense embarrassement in her, as if she's got caught red-handed. I think I know what it's all about. I give her a knowing look and glance at the open back door, before I turn back to the woman, ”Rumor has it that you're working for the Palace,” I give a quick glance to her outfit unintentionally, before I move my eyes back to her face, ”I'm sure – well, by now – you've heard some interesting stories about me.”

The woman responds by nodding. She begins to move her feet uneasily, staring at the ground.

”But you haven't heard my side of the tale, have you?” I say, and the woman rises her gaze back to me. The shopkeep's face looks like, that in her mind, she agrees to this statement, as well. I continue, ”Besides, I do still owe you for the reading. Are you thirsty? My treat.”

The shopkeep replies that she's thirsty. For some reason, her answer delights me – I want to know more about this woman. ”Oh, fantastic. Please, allow me,” I smile at her, and guide her into the bustle of the tavern. Barth, a barkeep of the tavern, gives me a cheeky salute when I pass by him with my new companion. I smirk at him in response – let him think what he wants, I'm not accountable to him about my companions. I escort the woman to a booth in the back of the tavern and she sits down. 

The woman becomes self-conscious about the drastic difference between her apprearance to the others at the tavern. She keeps glancing around nervously and seems to shrink a little in hopes of becoming invisible. Some people turn to look at us, giving cold stares towards the shopkeep. For her, I ignore the staring patrons and give her a warm smile.

”You make yourself comfortable. I'll be right back,” I kindly urge her.

When I turn around, I see starers hastily turning their heads away – good, maybe this helps the shopkeep to win her shyness. I head to the bar counter to order drinks for us. I keep glancing occasionally at my companion: now she's observing the tavern curiously. So she hasn't been here before, though it doesn't surprise me – the woman doesn't seem like someone who spends her evenings in taverns. I play it safe and order a non-alcoholic drink for the shopkeep. I don't know exactly, why has she come here, but I don't find it appropriate to get her drunk. I chat and joke with Barth while waiting our drinks. After a moment I return to my companion, hand her the drink and take a gulp from mine. I notice the shopkeep eyeing her cup inquisitively, before she takes a tentative sip. It makes me smile: not the most trusting of the bunch – though, in my case it might be justified. I'm a wanted murder suspect, after all. 

”You know, I never did get your name,” I remember and look at her encouragingly, interlocking my fingers on the table between us. _There's something... mysterious? about that woman..._ She's been hired to look for me and bring me to the Countess, but still she agrees to drink with me. _Why?_ The woman stares at my hands bashfully. After a little hesitation she opens her mouth, ”...Hande.”

”Ahh. Hande, what a lovely name. A musical name. _Hande._ ”

I taste her name in my mouth. It's indeed a beautiful name – and somehow familiar. _Could it be? Or am I just imagining?_ Well, anyway, we've just met and now I finally know her name. I offer my hand to her for shaking, and after a moment of hesitation Hande takes it. I can't help but grin at her. In a moment Hande clears her throat and begins to speak, ”Thank you for the drink, it's good. I realised I forgot to mention to you I'm a teetotaler, but it looks like you got me a non-alcoholic one, after all,” she says, giving me a shy smile. I feel relieved I didn't mess this up, at least not yet. After a little silence Hande continues, ”You said you'd tell me your side of the story.”

Ah, she hasn't forgotten why she's here. Among other things, she's also unyielding. _Charming._ ”Oh, I did, didn't I? How careless of me.” 

Hande gives me a skeptical stare, and I can't help but laugh. Ha, she hasn't come to fool around. I lean back in the booth and decide to give my companion what she wants, ”All right, ask anything you like. I swear, on my honour, to tell the truth.”

Hande digs a scroll from her bag and hands it to me. I open the scroll and start to read. Wait a minute... This is my handwriting! A letter for Pasha I never sent. My mind is filled with memories and longing, but at the same time, curiosity about Hande's offering is troubling my mind.

”Where did you find this?” 

”It was on your desk. In the palace library.”

The palace... _Hmph, so much evil, so much pain... Failures..._ I can see Hande glancing at my direction – just as if she could see right through me. It feels frightening. Is she now using some magic tricks to read my mind? After a while I finally open my mouth, ”Well, it's a letter, but you knew that. Dear so and so...”

”Dear sister.”

I raise my gaze from the paper to Hande. _How does she know? This witch knows just about everything!_ Ashamed, I manage to splutter, ”You – you can read this?”

Hande shrugs. I should have guessed... Submissively, I continue reading the letter. A familiar, pulsing pain, a sign of a headache, begins to feel in the back of my head. I stop from time to time to rub my temples or pinch the birdge of my nose to keep the pain from getting worse. _So many things I don't remember..._ After I'm finished with reading the letter, I feel wistful and exhausted. I roll up the letter and hand it back to Hande. I toss the rest of my drink down my throat, hoping for numbing my state.

”You have a sister,” Hande says in a declarative, but compassionate voice. The comment surprises me and the drink almost goes down the wrong way. Nothing goes unnoticed by that woman... But she sounds understanding, not condemning. _Why, why is she so kind to me?_ After coughing fluid out of my bronchus, I feel like I want to talk.

”I do, she's six years younger than me. Haven't seen her since she was ohh... this high,” I wave my hand just above the lip of the table. _Where is Pasha now?_ I need more drinks... I apologize to Hande and stride back to the bar counter. There's a table nearby where old women are playing cards. They're bickering with each other. I cannot resist the temptation: I whisper in the ear of one of them and tap a playing card in her hand. As you might guess, playing the card throws the crowd into chaos, and I'm forced to dodge a player who tries to douse me with their drink. I don't quite succeed and my face becomes wet. _Ha, a little life to the evening!_ I return to my companion chuckling.

”You would think I'd know better than to get involved.”

Hande raises her eyebrows at me, ”You're not worried about being seen?”

She's worried about me. Sweet. _You were supposed to hunt me down, but now you're pondering about my safety._ This woman is no ordinary detective. Or she wants something from me. However, I decide to reassure her, ”Here? Nooo. No, I'm not too worried. Folks around here aren't known to, uh, to oblige the wants and wishes of the Palace. Even the raven spends his time scouting for guards. Obsessively.”

Hande looks surprised. It amuses me a little. She doesn't seem to visit outside her home turf very often. And yet she's so brave. I can't stop looking at her. _Why do I still feel like I've met her somewhere? Those eyes... So beautiful..._

Suddenly Malak – the raven I mentioned to Hande – bursts in through a window and flies around the tavern with a guttural shriek. He beats himself against a string of bells. _Guards._ Ignoring the chaos that has arisen in the tavern, I get up, grab Hande and rush her from the back door to the alley. I'm raving – I'm certainly not going to get caught, before I've settled my affairs. I also don't want to risk Hande's safety: if the guards find her in my company, she may end up with her head in a noose beside me. I'm scanning the alley for the guards. Not a soul. The coast is clear, so I drag her into the shadows.

”You'll be able to find your way, yes? The guards aren't after you...”

Hande nods. I clasp her upper arms and look deep into her eyes, ”Thanks. For not, well... thanks, Hande.”

Before Hande has time to say anything, I turn on my heels and disappear from view. As I'm jogging near walls of buildings, my thoughts are spinning in my head. _Why am I so interested in Hande? Why did she agree to listen to me? Why didn't she hand me over to the guards?_ Is this some kind of scheme? On the other hand, she's Asra's student... In other words, Hande is a witch herself... _You shouldn't trust her: she's a magician, perhaps she's intriguing against you. Asra has taught her, so she can be as impossible as her master._ On the other hand, Hande didn't seem to be like her teacher at all. In a way she's more open-minded, although she didn't speak a lot during our meeting. Bah, stop thinking of such things – be that as it may, now the most important thing is ot get out of here. _But will Hande manage? What if she gets put in a jeopardy because of me? Now, Ilya, pull yourself together! Hande isn't a wanted escapee, so she'll be fine._ There's no point in worrying about a witch you've just met...


End file.
